


Would You Like Me to Welcome You Home Now?

by afogocado



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:43:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afogocado/pseuds/afogocado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Matt Murdock apartment-sits and puppy-sits for you while you're out of town for a couple of weeks and you come home to find he has neglected his duties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Would You Like Me to Welcome You Home Now?

**Author's Note:**

> I received this anon message like a month ago and I’m just now getting the free time to get back into writing that isn’t school-related. I thought I would start off with this one-shot. Typically, my work is a lot lengthier, so I’m trying to do an exercise in brevity. This will probably turn into a series of one shots in which the Nelson-Murdock squad find themselves in a spot of comedic trouble.
> 
> “I just came up with a sudden prompt & I think you’re the perfect person for it because I love your writng style. Basically the reader & Matt are arguing and, being the lawyer that he is, Matt only asks questions. It annoys the reader like crazy”

\----

The first thing you notice is the smell. Oh, God. What has he been doing all this time you’ve been gone? At first, you’re worried he or the dog crawled under the sink and possibly died. But, no. Of course that didn’t happen because he’s standing in front of you, leaning against the kitchen counter, his face looking like an emoji with too many apologetic teeth. 

“Would you like me to welcome you home now, Y/N?” Matt Murdock, in all his jogging pants and hooded sweatshirt glory asks you. 

No, you tell yourself, not going to work this time, sir. Your charm is no good here. 

“I don’t even know where to start. What have you done? The place is a mess. What is that smell?”

“Is this any way to greet the friend who took care of your humble abode while you were away?”

You narrow your eyes and want to tell him to wipe the smirk off of his face. That now isn’t the time to be cute, dammit. But, of course, for Matt fucking Murdock, any time is the time for being cute. 

“So we have a comedian in the house,” you roll your eyes. “I am glad to see you. I’m not even trying to be an über ass right now, Matthew! It was a simple request! Feed the dog. Throw the dishes in the dishwasher to avoid fuzzy bowls and etcetera.” 

You are fuming. 

The dishes have been foul for days now, apparently. You’d been out of town for almost two weeks and he apartment-sat for you so your Australian shepherd puppy wouldn’t be so alone while you were away for a family emergency. In all that time, Matt has neglected to take care of cleaning up garbage. Prior to your departure, he previously advertised himself as the most worthy candidate to watch your small apartment: he claimed to be a certified dishwasher master and all. You berate yourself for listening to perhaps the most persuasive man in the world. 

“Why do you use my long name when you’re irritated with me?” He asks this in a tone similar to something inappropriate for the conversation you’re having now. Treating it like a curiosity. Trying to derail the topic and your anger. 

You grit your teeth to the point of worrying that you’re causing actual damage, “Oh, excuse me. Matt.”

“Yes? Your honor?” His eyebrows knit together seriously. His hands are together, as if in prayer, chin resting on top of his fingers.

“Why didn’t you do any dishes? There’s a mountain of them?” If you had longer nails, you’re sure they’d be digging through the skin of your palm by now. “Why are you asking ME questions?”

Matt purses his lips and shoves his hands into his grey hoodie’s front pouch. “Why do you think being upset about it is going to make any of this better?” There’s mirth behind his words.

You know your eyes can’t bulge any wider and you glance over at Foggy for help. Foggy, who is rolling about on the wood floor with your puppy, Francis. 

Foggy stops and leaps to his feet gracefully, smoothing his hair out of his face, sputtering, “Uh, yeah, totally. I mean, pfft. Come on, Matt.” He glances at you. “Dirty dishes. Weeks to do them…Right?”

“Why are you only mad at me? Don’t you know Foggy was here all week, too?” Matt gestures towards Foggy’s general direction. Foggy’s face scrunches up like an angry goblin’s, aimed towards Matt. 

You shoot Foggy Nelson the death glare and you yelling his name earns you a nice SHUT UP ASSHOLE! message from your next door neighbor, to which you can hear their companion’s reply, “Oh, Christ. She’s back? I thought they all moved away or something.”

While Matt and Foggy don’t live with you, you’re sure they spend more time in your apartment than their own homes and perhaps even law office. You also definitely didn’t know that Foggy was going to be spending any significant amount of time at your house and so, the state of it is absolutely all the more unacceptable. Perhaps more unacceptable than it is the state of these two men: it looks like they’ve been living in their pajamas for days on end. 

“You were here the whole time, Foggy?!”  
He retaliates with a, “YOU HAVEA DOG HERE, OF COURSE I WAS GOING TO BE HERE ALL THE TIME. WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS, A GAME?” Most of it comes out as one word. 

“OH GOD, THE OTHER ONES ARE THERE TOO—THE ONE THAT’S ALWAYS EXCITED,” you hear the next-door neighbor’s companion groan through the wall. 

You round on Foggy, who is cradling Francis in his arms. He frowns at you through his tousled red-blonde fringe, “Look! You’ve upset the baby. He can’t stay in an environment such as this. This is toxic to his development. I’m taking him with me. You’ll thank me someday.” He snatches the leash off a nearby coffee table and all but runs out the door and into the hall, on his way outside with Francis still in his arms. You hear him mumble to the dog, “Jeez, let’s get the hell outta here, buddy.”

Matt speaks up, “You’re just going to let him take your dog like that?” The dwindling sunlight is coming in from the picture window leading out to your balcony. It highlights Matt’s head and you can see where his hair is red and you smile softly.

“I had to get him to leave some how.”

Matt grins and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “It’s been a long two weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Could you stop with the questions now?” You laugh. You’d planned this with Matt for a couple of days now. Pretend to fight, get Foggy out of the house (you did know he was there), so you could spend some alone time with Matt. You hadn’t told Foggy about the two of you yet because it was still so new. 

“How do you love me?” He brushes your lower lip with his before kissing you deeply, gently rubbing the small of your back through your cardigan’s fabric. 

“Who said anything about love?” You chuckle, and you know he knows you’re teasing.

“I thought the dishes were an issue? I can do them now.” He goes to pull away from you.

“Later,” you murmur against him and clumsily lead him to the couch.


End file.
